


what we found in the sand

by Flubi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bad First Aid, F/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Slavery, babysitting!!!, jango falls in love first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flubi/pseuds/Flubi
Summary: Watto sold Shmi to Jabba as a lower mechanic.





	what we found in the sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowmaat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/gifts).



I.

Jango first noticed her during a bar brawl. She was crouched by the counter, ready to spring into action at the slightest notice. Another glance told him she didn’t have any weapons.

He looked away when a blaster bolt nearly hit him. He quickly lost her in the chaos of the cantina.

 

II.

Jango ran into her after picking up a hit from Jabba. He hated working for the slug, but money was money, and he had to earn enough to spend the next few months with his son. Jabba was the only one willing to pay the amount he needed for a short-term mission.

Boba was turning four and wanted to visit one of the more temperate planets. His only experience off Kamino was Tatooine. Two very violent extremes.

The only reason he noticed her this time was because she dropped spare parts from a moisture collector. It was only out of habit of cleaning up after Boba that he bothered to bend down and help her. He went through the motions and watched her stiffen through his visor.

He mentally classified her as a slave.

Jango neatly stacked the parts into a pile and gave it to her. She warily took it and watched him leave.

 

III.

The first time they'd talked, he'd received another job from Jabba and hire a mechanic. He'd meant to be in and out, after all, his (coming up on six years) boy was in his ship. 

Jango grimaced at the mental image of what Boba could be getting up to. While Boba was a smart boy, he was a  _ smart boy _ . He knew his way around the ship where the emergency snacks were hidden, how to get into blaster locker (for emergencies), knew how the ship worked and what button did what, etc. 

Jango was concerned that he would take off in the ship on a whim. Boba was his perfect clone, but he was still a child.

But before he could go off on the mission that Jabba would give him, he needed to fix the oxygen recirculator. It was sputtering and whining for the last few hours. 

It concerned him because he didn't know that system as well as he should. He could take apart his whole ship and put it back together again with no problems, except for the life support systems. Life support systems took too much time to learn the ins and outs of. He should've put aside some time to learn the ins and outs before now, but he was always busy with something else.

On his way to Jabba's throne room, he passed a few slaves. He kept a respectful distance between him and them. While he wasn't nice to slaves, he wasn't rude to them either. Especially after his short jaunt as one.

The trip was short, very few were awake after the most recent podrace. But Jabba would be awake, either assessing his earnings or being entertained by his new earnings. He grimaced at the thought. He turned the corner into Jabba's throne room and found it was the latter.

Jango was approached by Bib Fortuna and a job was arranged. A small fee was deducted from the job's pay, and Fortuna sent another slave to retrieve a mechanic of a decent skill level to work on Jango's ship. Jango waited patiently while Fortuna went to discuss something with Jabba.

While he waited, Jango made sure to watch his back. He didn't doubt that the other bounty hunters in Jabba's palace would try to take him out if they thought they'd get something out of it. But nothing happened this time, and two slaves briskly walked into the throne room.One of them split off toward Bib Fortuna, and the other carefully chose her steps towards him. He was momentarily taken aback to realize that he recognized this slave.

While that wasn't odd in of itself, it just wasn't common to run into a slave more than twice in Jabba's palace. Jango carefully looked her over and deemed her ready for work, she wasn't half starved like many of the other slaves in Jabba's palace. Jango nodded at the slave and opened a comm frequency with Boba.

"Boba, prepare for a guest, and stay out of sight." Jango observed the slave following him and made sure to keep a quick but easy to follow pace.

"Alright,  _ buir _ ." Something thudded in the background and Jango instinctively cringed at the thought of what Boba had gotten into.

"Are you hurt, Little one?" Jango asked. Boba was quick to deny and Jango felt safe enough to cut the signal.

The rest of the short trip to his ship was quiet.

When they got to the ship, he pointed the slave in the direction of the oxygen recirculator. He turned on the frequency with his son.

"Boba, guest has arrived, she's near the life support systems."

"Ok,  _ buir _ . Can I have a snack?" Jango laughed and said yes. Boba was always focused on food. 

Jango took his helmet off after closing the ramp. He didn't care if a slave saw his face, especially one in no position to harm him. Quietly he retraced the slave's path to the oxygen recirculator, keen on asking some questions about it.

Once he got close enough to see she was doing what she was supposed to be doing, he let his footsteps become audible. He watched her jerk, but continue working.

"Excuse me, but do you mind me asking you a few questions?" She turned and gave him a considering look, but shook her head.

He crouched down next to her, careful to keep a neat distance between them. He wanted to smile at the wary look she gave him, but kept it under wraps.

"So, what exactly is wrong with the oxygen recirculator?"

"One of the parts has busted and needs to be welded shut, along with the build up of particles in the first and second filters." The slave pointed accordingly towards the parts. He rubbed his chin when he saw the part that was busted. He seemed to have overlooked it earlier.

"I see, do you have to tools necessary to weld the part, and clean the filters?" He looked around and noticed a few tools beside her.

"I will need to rent out the welder, but I have what I need to clean the filters." The slave made to get up until he held out his hand.

"No need, I have a welder, mask, and gloves you can use." The run to the supply closet was fairly quick. He gave her his welder mask, and the tools. She diligently strapped the mask and gloves on all while he jammed his helmet back on and dimmed the brightness.

The part was a simple fix, and the filters were cleaned. The slave mildly scolded him about their state, and that they should be changed whenever was convenient.

After that he led her to the ramp door. She paused right before reaching the doors, her gaze focused on something. He followed it to one of Boba's many star ship figurines. Their companionable atmosphere evaporated.

He swore and leveled his gaze on the slave. She snapped to attention and watched him like a corned animal. He considered his options

"What's your name?" Her eyes widened at the question. To her credit, she only hesitated for a few seconds.

"Shmi Skywalker." He took his hand off the controls.

"Skywalker, I trust you can keep quiet about what you've seen here." He watched her nod, fear in her eyes. He put his helmet back on, then slapped the button that lowered the ramp. His eyes followed her until she left his line of sight.

Boba wasn't a well known fact among the general population, his existence trusted to only a few. And he wanted to keep it that way until his son could take on a jedi with little trouble.

 

IV.

They met again not long after. He'd read up on her in between meetings. Mother to Anakin Skywalker, bought by Jabba after trading hands a few times, currently age 45. Became a slave in 66 BBY, skills in mechanics and child rearing, no noted fighting capabilities.

Jango saw the ledge and jumped over.

 

* * *

  
  


"Bib Fortuna, I'd like to rent one of Jabba's slaves again." Jango kept his voice even and neutral. He was running a job for Jabba that would take place entirely on planet, and would take a few days.

"Specialization? Or, do you have one of them in mind." Fortuna's attention was entirely on the holopad in his grasp. His question was likely reflexive with how many sex slaves Jabba owned, and rented out.

"I need the mechanic from last time, her abilities were adequate." Fortuna nodded and sent for Skywalker.

"A fee will be deducted from your pay, how long do you plan on renting her?"

"Six days." Fortuna raised a brow.

"May I ask why?"

"My ship needs a complete systems re haul, and major repairs after my last hunt." Fortuna make a sound of understanding.

"You may go, I will send her to your ship when she gets here."

 

* * *

  
  


Shmi stepped onto the ship cautiously, tools in hand. Fett seemed ready to kill her last time, and while she doubted he would kill her after renting her for six days, things happen. Shmi immediately saw what required her services after looking around.

The ship was badly damaged, and likely would take up most of her time. She frowned slightly at all the work she would have to do in less than six days.

"Skywalker. Close the ramp and come to the cockpit." Shmi jumped when Fett's voice rang over the ship's comms. She tapped the ramp controls and scurried towards the cockpit.

On the walk over, she cataloged every damaged part, every caved in pipe, and filed them away for later. Shmi walked into the cockpit and saw Fett and a boy. She didn't know whether or not to feel pleased her suspicions were confirmed.

"Sit, Skywalker. I have to talk with you more in depth about why I hired you." Shmi blinked, and took the only seat available to her. Folding her hands, she made she made sure not to make eye contact.

"I hired you to fix up my ship, but the only part you need to get done, are the life support systems. My main reason for hiring you is so someone is there to watch over my son and make sure he eats on time." Fett's son pouted at his father, and Shmi had to stop her jerk of surprise at that. Last time she suspected a child was on board, but she didn't think this boy was his son.

Jango Fett's reputation as a ruthless bounty hunter pervaded through the galaxy. Not in a million years would she think he could've had a son. But at the same time, it fit with what she had experienced. Fett was kind to her every time, discarding the last time she left. Fett was likely only ruthless around employers and his targets.

She looked at his son, and saw the strong resemblance between them. His son was still pouting. He reminded her so strongly of Ani when he was mad at her for not letting him take home every droid he had found. Shmi wondered how he was doing, and if he's missed her. She hoped he was happy with the jedi.

Fett caught her eye. "This is Boba, Boba this is Shmi Skywalker. She will take care of you while I hunt down Reeve Masha." Shmi smiled at the boy and said hello.

Boba squinted at her, then slowly said hello. A pang of melancholy hit her, she was tempted to clutch at her chest and cry. But she refrained. She wasn't in company that would hold her while she sobbed.

"This shouldn't have to be said, but if I find out you've told anyone about Boba, I will hunt you and your son down. And make sure you live a life worse than the one you are now," She clenched her hands.

"Onto other things, you may sleep in the ship if that will help with repairs, Boba will show you the rooms you may sleep in. But I will give you temporary access to my ship. There are enough rations on this ship to last you both two years, feel free to help yourself to it if you get hungry while working." Fett flipped his wrist and started tapping. He scanned her face and finished what he was doing.

To be honest, she felt a bit disorientated by this experience. A few minutes ago, she thought her dying before the six days was up, was a very real possibility. Now, Fett is asking her to take care of his child and fix his ship while he goes off to collect a bounty.

"If you need to know where anything is, ask Boba. Also, no spice or alcohol on my ship or around Boba." She snapped back to the present and nodded quickly. Even if she could indulge in those things, she wouldn't around a child.

"I understand sir, is there anything else you want me to take care of?" Shmi made sure to keep her head down. Even when Fett sighed.

"Don't call me sir, I'm not you're master, nor am I your punisher. Call me Jango." Shmi looked up in surprise to see Fet-no, Jango looking at her patiently. That look filled her with an emotion she couldn't describe.

She turned away from that gaze, "Alright, Jango." Boba seemed to have decided their conversation was boring, and decided to play with one of his star ship figurines. She smiled sadly at that. 

She wondered if this job would be too much for her.

Shmi peered at Jango, watching him talk to someone she couldn't hear through his helmet. Jango was an odd man. The first time they'd met, he'd helped her. Bounty hunters and others who regularly interacted with Jabba rarely treated slaves well. Unless they wanted something more. But no one had had that intention towards her in quite a few years.

So far, Jango had shown no sign of wanting the same.

She stood up and smoothed down her skirt when it looked like he had finished his private call. "Jango, may I begin work on your ship?" No reason not to be polite to him in his own ship.

He waved her off and she went to work.

 

* * *

 

 

A series out loud beeps knocked her out of the honed concentration that came from years of practice. She set down her tool and turned off the alarm. She'd set it up hours ago to remind both herself to eat, and to make sure Boba was fed.

Jango had left two days ago, and the alarm she’d brought for herself had saved her from dehydration. On Tatooine, dehydration snuck up on organics faster than any other planet.

Shmi swiped a sweat covered rag over her forehead and walked over to the ship ramp. A lot of the important work had to be done on the outside, like the pressure and temperature control was greatly affected by the giant rip in the hull. She considered those systems to be the priority since there was a child on board. The first day inside was very near hell at mid-day.

Shmi quickly rectified that, and made sure Boba stayed in the galley while she repaired those systems. The fiercely independent child hadn’t objected too hard to being stuck in the coolest room on the ship.

“Boba! Time to eat!” Shmi called out, on her way to the galley. She smiles when she heard the telltale sounds of the boy putting his stuff up and running over. The patter of his footsteps almost lulls her back into an earlier time, but she’s quick to snap herself out of it. It’s not fair to Boba or herself.

Shmi carefully wipes her hands of the muck that naturally comes from cleaning and repairing space-capable ships. Once it’s all gone, she opens the cabinets and starts pulling foods out. It takes hardly a minute for Boba to get there and sit himself in the smallest, comfiest chair in the room.

The bubble and hiss of rations reaching readiness draws her attention back to them. The rest of lunch was quiet.

 

* * *

  
  


It’s on the fourth day of work, that she runs into trouble. Trouble being: Boba is getting cabin fever.

Shmi knows what it’s like, but she can’t do anything stop it. She can only delay it a little bit longer. Long enough for Jango to return, and whisk his son across the stars.

So she stalls by putting everything else on hold. Work on the ship comes to a grinding halt, and she hopes Jango won’t be needing the hyperdrive anytime soon.

“Boba, have you ever repaired a droid?” Shmi asks, with the bare bones of a mouse droid in her hands. She snagged it from one of the scrap piles. It won’t be missed.

Boba shakes his head and sets his kid-proof wrist rocket launcher on the table. Shmi can see the interest in his eyes from here. She smiles and sets the mouse droid on the table and the tools to repair it, with it.

Boba watches her pull some spare wires from her skirt pocket. The wires are set in between the two of them. She can see his natural born curiosity growing. Ani was the same way, when she first started teaching him how to repair droids and machines.

“Would you like to learn?” Boba peers up at her, and nods.

She keeps him occupied like that for the next few days. She’ll bring in a newer, better droid everyday, but the mouse droid is the only one she lets Boba keep. Occasionally she will teach him something about how to survive on Tatooine. Outside of the safety of the towns. Boba always payed those lessons more attention.

 

* * *

  
  


Jango comes back to a half repaired ship and murmurs coming from the galley. It doesn’t take long for the other two to notice his presence, the ramp opening and closing wasn’t exactly made to be quiet.

No matter how many times he prepares, he’s never ready for the tiny hurricane that is Boba. He always manages to bulldoze his kneecaps, never mind how much he grows. While they go through their ritual welcome, he notices Shmi smiling fondly at them. He can’t resist smiling back at her.

 

V.

After the six day repair job, Jango would often stop by. Always asking for her services, for tiny things. Jango needs a discreet babysitter (he could’ve left Boba on Tipoca city), one of his pipes had busted and he can’t reach it (disassembling on of the others would’ve done the job), or he wants to know a tiny inconsequential detail about one of the life support systems (he could’ve easily looked it up).

Jango knows what's happening. He knows.

He knows, yet he can’t resist coming back to see her smile. He should avoid her like the plague, he can’t get attached to a slave stuck on Tatooine. He’s just asking for it.

 

* * *

  
  


“Jango, Boba, I’m here!” Shmi closes the ramp and walks towards the galley. She’s likely to find one of them there and if not, one of them will find her there. She smiles and sets her tools on the table, nowadays it’s fifty-fifty whether she’ll need them or not.

Shmi is startled when Boba runs up to her panicked and stuttering about his father. He quickly latches onto her arm and drags her towards Jango’s quarters. She pales and takes the lead. She’s the one dragging Boba now.

Shmi paws at the control panel. It can’t open fast enough. Inside, a heavily bleeding Jango is passed out on his bunk. All she can think is, she’s glad he renter her for quite a few days. She turns to Boba.

“Boba, go grab the first aid kit, and rubbing alcohol. Do you know where that is? Good.” Boba runs off, and she hurriedly picks her way through the discarded armor. She’s by his side in less than a minute checking his pulse, and lifting his shirt to see the damage.

She nearly sighs when she realizes it isn’t as bad as she initially thought. But it’s still bad. Boba still isn’t back with the first aid kit, so she busies herself with applying pressure to his wound.

Her hands are soaked with blood when Boba comes back with what she asked for. He turns a petrified face towards her hands, but hands it over.

“Boba, go to the galley and find something to sip on. I’ll call you over when I’m finished patching up your papa. Understood?” Boba looks like a kaadu in the headlights, but he nods shakily and leaves. Shmi sighs and uncaps the rubbing alcohol and dumps a fourth of it on her hands, and another fourth on Jango’s wound.

She flips him over, but sees no exit wound. She can’t tell if that’s bad. Carefully, she lays him on his back and examines his wound. Not cauterized, so lightsaber and blaster are out. Maybe it’s a knife, or if they’re both really unlucky, a slugthrower. Force, she hopes not.

Her only options are to either wake Jango up and ask, or sew it over and hope for the best. She really regrets not repairing the med-droid last time. Her hands flutter indecisively over his body.

_ Kriff it. _

Shmi searches through the first aid kit, looking for the smelling salts. She’s familiar with its uses and dangers, having to use it on fellow slaves during long work hours. She knows it’ll be enough to wake Jango up. Long enough to get a short answer. The salts are in the corner, tucked out of sight.

The smelling salts are crushed and under Jango’s nose in less than a second. He inhales sharply and she snaps the salts away.

She’s taken aback when he grabs her by the throat. Her trembling hand holds the one on her throat.

“Jango, it-it’s me… Shmi Skywal-Skywalker,” She swallows carefully, “You’re… you’re injured Jang-Jango, I need… I need to know, how.” Shmi’s vision is going black, but she can see Jango frowning. She reaches her other hand up to grab Jango’s.

The hand holding her throat releases and she’s on the ground, a sharp piece of armor digging into her back. Shmi coughs and chokes, she hears him talking in the background. Laying her forehead on the ground, she wants to stay there. But Jango. He needs her help.

Slowly she pushes herself up and turns to Jango. She blinks a few times, and sees a look of worry on his face.

“Don’t,” She coughs, “worry. You’re the one b-bleeding.” Shmi crawls back onto her knees and pushes his shoulders back onto the bed. He’s not in much of a position to protest.

“But I choked you, almost killed you.” Jango seems almost frantic. He tries to strain against her, but the burst of strength form earlier is gone.

“It doesn’t matter. Your wound, how did you get it?” It takes him a minute. Disorientated. Probably doesn’t remember piloting himself here. She disinfects her hands again.

“I got knifed, right in between the plates of my armor.” She’s relieved, yet not. The blood is normal for an injury like this, but he was  _ knifed _ . So all she has to do is sew him back together and hope for the best. There was a reason he came to her. Either because of Boba, or he had nowhere else to go. They’re both likely.

“I’m gonna sew you up, do you want to be conscious?”  He nods, and she gathers the needle and thread. He moves, and she looks to see what he’s doing. He’s holding his wound. Shmi pales when she remembers she hasn’t been putting pressure on it.

She decides, she’ll never be a doctor.

She rips a piece of her skirt off and hands it to him, then disinfects the needle and thread. Sewing Jango up is comparatively less traumatic compared to the rest of the day.

“Jango, I’m glad your trusted me with this, but by the force, I’m not a doctor.” Shmi scolds, leaning her back against the bunk. He laughs.

“Sorry, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“I don’t blame you.”

They sit there for a few more minutes. Jango dozes off, and she gets up. Boba should know they’re out of the woods. The door slides open. Boba jumps up from the chair he’d dragged into the hall. Empty juice pack on the floor.

“He’s gonna be okay.” She motions for him to come in. While he goes and talks with his papa, she sets herself to work, and picks up the armor. When he gets out of bed, he doesn’t need to dodge around every little piece. The armor is settled into two little piles, bloody and not bloody.

She startles when something wraps around her legs. She twists around, and smiles.

“Hey Boba.” His face is buried in the side of her thigh. Her eyes widened when she heard sobs coming from him. In the two years she’s known him, he’s never cried around her. She pries him from her thigh and crouches to his level.

“It’s alright, Boba.” They hug for a while, and eventually he falls asleep in her lap. She follows not long after.

 

* * *

 

 

She wakes up to Boba patting her cheek.

“ _ Bu _ -Shmi, I’m hungry.” She wonders what he was going to say, but she drops it. He was most likely still sleepy, she definitely is.

“Alright, let’s go fix ourselves and your papa some food.” Boba slides off her lap, and they both go the to the galley. They work together to fix a cheesy soup, Jango’s favorite according to Boba.

Boba and Shmi share secretive smiles and walk into Jango’s room. There’s no secret, but Boba wanted to surprise his papa with his favorite soup. Shmi let him take the lead and lets him wake Jango up. Boba feeds his papa until he gets hungry himself, then Shmi takes over.

There’s barely enough room for her to sit on the edge of the bed, but it’ll do.

Shmi’s surprised at how intimate feeding another person is. They’re trusting you to feed, and make sure you don’t get anything on them. Along with the eye contact. It’s a struggle not to blush and look away.

“Almost done, and then I’ll need to wash you and your sheets.” Shmi looks away from his piercing stare, and towards the bowl on her lap. Then she looks at Boba. He’s passed out against the bunk, leaning against her legs. Poor boy.

“Thank you,” Jango looks like he wants to say more. But she doesn’t pry. It’s not her place, no matter how friendly Jango and his son are.

It takes three days for Jango to recover. Shmi almost wishes he took longer. Almost.

 

* * *

 

 

Boba’s seven and a half when her realizes how foolish he really is. He’s rented Shmi for the stupidest thing in existence.

Jango requested her time to ask her to cook the cheesy soup from the time he was injured. It may be because Boba’s sick, but he didn’t need to take up Shmi’s time for something so simple. She’s a mechanic, not a cook after all.

But that doesn’t stop him.

Shmi comes in with her customary call, and sets her tools on the galley table. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s aware that she isn’t here to fix anything. Except maybe a bowl of soup for him and his sick kid.

Little gods, he’s gonna sound like a hormonal teenager but her smile is adorable.

“Sh-Skywalker. Sorry to call you here for something so simple, but can you make that cheesy soup? Boba’s sick and that’s the only thing he wants to eat right now.” Shmi grinned at him. She seemed amused at least.

“Sure, I assume he isn’t that sick then?” She started pulling out all the materials from last time. The pot from last time has a deep dent in the shape of a blaster muzzle.

“Not really, just a small fever and sore throat.” She turned the pot towards him, and watches as a large smile breaks out on his face. His amusement is contagious. It takes a few minutes and a new pot to calm them again.

“Poor boy, I remember when Ani would get sick like that. He would always look pitifully adorable.” Shmi smiles wistfully. Jango set a comforting hand on her shoulder. She sends him a grateful smile, and turns back to the soup in process.

“But I have to tell you something, I was just making everything up as I went last time. I hope this will be as good as last time’s.” She measures out an approximation of cheese, but just dumps a third of the bag into the pot. It  _ was  _ supposed to be a cheesy soup.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Jango reassured. She laughed and went back to stirring the soup. His eyes lingered a little too long on her, he only turned away when she caught him looking.

There was something lingering in the air between them. Neither knew what to do about it, so they ignored it. It went on for a few more minutes until Shmi broke the silence.

“Soup’s ready, would you get some bowls down?” Shmi asked and went searching for leftover containers. She dished out two bowls, and ignored the third. Then filled the leftover containers.

“You’re not staying?” He asked.

“No, I can’t. I have to train the new girl.” Shmi didn’t meet his eyes.

Jango mulled over what to say to that. He was disappointed, but she was telling the truth.

“Alright, good luck.” Shmi was relieved. He could’ve done so many other things, but he wished her luck. He wasn’t going to hold her own duties over her head.

“Make sure Boba drinks a glass of water after the soup.” The sick should always drink extra water on Tatooine. “And make sure to tell him I said get well and I’ll see you soon.” They inevitably would see each other if Jango continued to rent her.

“I will, Sh-see you later.”

“Bye, Jango.”

 

VI.

“Shmi! You’re here!” Shmi dropped her tools and caught the human missile. They both laughed as she spun them.

“I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything, Boba.” She kissed the top of his head set him down.

“My, you’ve grown! I can’t believe you’re eight, you’re way too tall to be eight!” Shmi put her hands on her hips and smiled down at him. Boba smiled back. He grabbed a fistful of her skirt. Boba used his hold on her skirt to tug her towards the galley.

She obediently followed and laughed when she saw Jango. Jango had one of those tacky birthday hats on and a kazoo in his mouth. He blew enthusiastically into the kazoo, making sounds that reminded her of a pained bantha. They made eye contact and smiled indulgently. Jango’s kazoo fell out of his mouth. Jango flushed and she laughed.

Boba tugged on her skirt again, trying to get her to crouch. She only then noticed the party hat in his hands. Boba was suddenly shy, not wanting to make eye contact. He shoved the hat into her grasp and muttered something.

“I’m sorry?”

“Thank you for coming,” Boba hesitated, “ _ buir _ .” Boba hugged her tightly, face hidden in her side. She tilted her head. She’d heard that word before. She looked to Jango for a hint, he’d know.

What greeted her was Jango’s shocked face. She furrowed her brows and poked Boba’s side.

“Boba, what does  _ buir _ mean?” Boba pulled away, but would meet her eyes. His face was bright red.

“ _ Buir _ means parent in  _ mando’a _ .” Jango cut in and Boba nodded in agreement. Shmi was shocked. Boba considered her his parent.

“Mandalorians have a thing about adopting family members. I should’ve seen this coming.” Jango shook his head and grinned. Shmi  _ was  _ the only other stable adult in his life. The others, if they were there, were cold to Boba.

“Oh.” Shmi didn’t know what to do.

“I can call you  _ buir _ , right Shmi?” Boba looked so scared and hurt in that moment, Shmi would’ve done anything.  _ Anything _ to wipe that look off his face. And she knew just what to do.

“Yes, of course you can. I’m just shocked you would consider someone like me a parent.” Jango frowned at that.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m a slave, and I can’t be there for him as much as someone else could be. I can’t provide anything other than affection.” It was the ugly truth. Her ability to provide even that depended wholly on Jango. Jango held her gaze, trying to convey something.

“That doesn’t matter,  _ buir _ .” Boba drew her attention, staring up at her with a hurt loth cat face.

“I guess it doesn’t,” Shmi remembered it was his birthday, ”Not when a wonderful little boy like you thinks so.” She picked up the forgotten hat and put it on his head.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday!” She brushed their earlier conversation under the rug. Boba turned adoring eyes on her and dragged her towards the table laden with food.

 

* * *

  
  


It was after Boba was put to bed that Jango pulled her into the galley. The floor was still littered with confetti from the poppers. She idly brushed whatever confetti she could reach with her foot into a pile. Jango had his back to her and was fixing tea for both of them.

She dreaded the look in his eyes when he pulled her into the galley. She understood that this wouldn’t be a conversation she would like.

Jango set a cup of heavily spiced cup of tea in front of her. He sat across the table and stared at her cup.

“Shmi, I used to be a slave.” Her head snapped up. Jango? A slave? Impossible, he was too strong to have ever been enslaved. Jango was person she couldn’t imagine ever being under someone else’s boot.

“How? I can’t even-” Shmi shook her head and furrowed her brows.

“One of my enemies sold me into slavery as revenge for killing every one of his men, after he’d slaughtered my own. I was a slave for a few years before I broke myself out.” Jango took a sip of his tea. She wanted to laugh. Of course he freed himself. But she couldn’t figure out why he was telling her.

“What does this have to with anything?” She settled on. Jango looked up at her.

“Shmi, I care for you a lot, and want you to be safe. Boba wants you to be safe.” She blushed and looked away. That’s the most emotionally honest Jango has been with her.

“With your permission I’d like to buy your freedom.” Jango kept his eyes on hers when she looked up again.

He wanted to buy her freedom? Shmi was stunned.

“What would I owe you?” Jango may care for her, and want her free, but she would have to pay him back for his kindness.

“Nothing.” Jango smiled, “Just for you to continue to care for and love Boba.” Shmi snorted.

“I’d do that regardless, Jango.” And she would. Sometimes she would feel like she was replacing Ani, but she knew she wasn’t. She had a heart big enough for the both of them.

“Good, I’ll go in the morning, stay here and rest.” She finished her cup of tea and said goodnight when Jango left.

 

* * *

  
  


“Bib Fortuna, I’d like to buy this slave.” Jango held up a holo of Shmi standing, face neutral. Fortuna turned and eyes him.

“I was beginning to think you never would. She spends more time with you than in here.” Fortuna brought up the bill and pulled out the remote. Jango was glad that he was wearing a helmet.

“She’ll be 20,000 republic credits.” Jango blinked. That was a relatively low price for a slave. He’d expected more for such a hard worker.

“You got a discount for being such a loyal employee, and her productivity has gone down significantly since she met you.” Fortuna smiled a smile that he couldn’t decipher. Jango decided he didn’t want to know.

The process for buying Shmi was disgustingly easy.

 

* * *

  
  


Jango arrived to a quiet ship. He felt out of place, he was still high on freeing Shmi, but the ship didn’t match his mood.

He forced himself to calm and take quieter steps, not wanting to wake either of them if they weren’t already. He secluded himself in his room and started dressing down. Piece by piece.

Now that he’s freed Shmi, he wonders what she’ll do. Will she ask to come with them, or will she want to stay on Tatooine. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. (He’s lying to himself.)

 

* * *

  
  


“I want to stay on Tatooine. I feel like I have to.” Jango’s disappointed, but he understands. She’s sticking with what’s familiar.

“I need to. Ani will return, and if I’m gone, something bad will happen.” Jango almost wants to hate Shmi’s first son.

“I can’t take your money, you’ve already bought my freedom.” Shmi will need money if she wants to accomplish her goals.

“Fine, but visit me as often as possible.” Jango feels numb.

 

VII.

Shmi did it. 

She used the money he gave her and made a living out of it. She runs her own repair shop, and is able to hire another worker. When he and his son come to Tatooine, they have a home.

Boba and him are hugged when they enter she shop, and they all have their own rooms. But occasionally they’ll all share. Or when Boba gets a nightmare, they all sleep in the living room. In a nest of blankets and piles of pillows.

Shmi and him share cooking duties. They’re both decent cooks, hardly able to make something horrible. Their son still loves cheesy soup.

Now, whenever he goes on hunts, he leaves Boba with Shmi. They’re happy and content together.

That’s all he’s wanted for the longest time. But this life will have to wait a little bit longer.

There’s a war to start, with an army that shares his face.

 

* * *

  
  


He misses the return of Shmi’s first son.

**Author's Note:**

> did u know real guns are in star wars? they're called slugthrowers and they're OP. they work exceptionally well against jedi b/c the bullet melts on the lightsaber and the molten metal still flies at the jedi. not commonly used b/c they're considered uncivilized or smthg.
> 
> alright, so headcanon time. Boba’s like really introverted, and he slowly learns to deal with it as he grows, but until then, he’s a pretty reticent kid.
> 
> i feel evil. but if u want to convince urself jango’s alive, go ahead, i left it open-ended enough.


End file.
